On Tea, Teasing & Trust
by princessozmaofoz
Summary: A series of unconnected one shots of varying length and subject matter, focusing primarily on the friendships between the four recurring cast members. Mostly gen, but with some slight vestiges of Lewis/Hobson.
1. Breakfast

_Author's Note, Dedication, and Disclaimer: This story will be composed of a series of unconnected one shots of varying length, genre and subject matter. Most will focus on the friendships between various groupings of the four recurring Lewis characters. This story is affectionately dedicated to prosfan, for whom many of these were specifically written awhile ago (although I am only just now getting around to posting them) and who never fails to make me smile. Finally, I don't own __Lewis._

Breakfast

_10:30 a.m. _Jim's still lying asleep on Lewis's sofa, after yet another Saturday night of intense drinking and even more intense conversation. Robbie can't really blame his sergeant; the case they've just closed was exhausting for both of them. In fact, Lewis is a little relieved that his sergeant appears to have slept so peacefully; the poor lad tends to have nightmares over cases less disturbing than this one.

Lewis's empty stomach rumbles loudly, and he worries for a moment that he might have woken Hathaway. It hasn't.

Best to let James rest for a bit longer. In the meantime, Lewis will scoot out to the grocery store to pick up some bacon and eggs for the two of them to enjoy when Hathaway wakes up.


	2. Care Package

_Set immediately after "Allegory of Love"_

Care Package

Jean Innocent can't remember the last time she'd felt so miserable. Of course, she had a legitimate excuse. It wasn't every day that one found out one's best friend was a mentally unstable murderer.

She wonders how she could've been so wrong about Ginny Harris. Normally, she's such a good judge of character, but this time…

Eventually Innocent reasons that she was just seeing what she wanted to see, believing what she wanted to believe—blinding herself to the fact that this Ginny is not the same Ginny she knew at uni just as she is not the same Jean she used to be. Time changes people—sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.

She hurries to her car, wanting to get home as quickly as possible so that she can fling herself in her loving husband's arms. And then she remembers that he won't be at home after all; he doesn't get back from that damned conference until tomorrow afternoon. She supposes she could jerk his arm into coming back early, but she knows she'd feel guilty about it. This conference is very important, and besides, he'd never really been all that crazy about Ginny anyway—often wondering exactly why Jean was friends with someone who was so different from her in temperament.

The chief superintendent arrives home ten minutes later—head still swimming with horrific images of her old friend crashing a mirror over an innocent girl's head. She parks the car, exits it, and goes up to the door, beside which sits a medium sized cardboard box with her name written on it in a messy but still somewhat familiar script. There's no postmark or stamp on the package, indicating that it hadn't been formally mailed, but merely left on her doorstep for her to find.

A trifle confused, Innocent picks up the package, places it under one arm, and unlocks the door to her house. Once she's inside, she brings the box over to the kitchen table and looks around until she finds a reliable pair of scissors. Once she's disposed of the thick layer of packing tape binding the box shut, Jean pulls back the flaps.

Inside are: a new paperback from her favourite crime novelist, two of trashy celebrity gossip magazines Jean professes to dislike but secretly enjoys, lilac-scented bubble bath, and a box of gourmet chocolate.

There's also a note at the bottom in the same familiar, slightly untidy handwriting as her name on the front of the box. Innocent picks up and reads.

Jean,

Robbie told me what's happened. I'm very sorry and I thought you could use a little pampering as a result. If you need to talk or even just want a distraction, don't hesitate to call. I don't have anything planned for the rest of the week.

- Laura—

The chief superintendent smiles to herself, picks up her mobile, and dials the pathologist's number. " Hi, Laura. It's Jean…. Yes, I just got your package. …It was lovely. … Thank you so much… Anyway, the reason I was calling is that…Mr Innocent is out of town tonight…and so I'm on my own, which is the absolute last thing in the world I want right now… Also, I'd feel guilty eating an entire box of chocolates by myself much as I may want to. Would you care to join me…Okay, what time should I expect you? All right, I'll see you in an hour then. Thank you, Laura. And goodbye."

It seems like one good thing has come of this whole Ginny Harris mess after all. In the process of losing a friend, Jean seems to have found one that she didn't know she had.


	3. Watch

Watch

He's been wondering for well over two years now, though he still hasn't asked. James supposes it could be a Geordie thing or a generational thing or some quirk the inspector picked up from a family member or friend.

Wording the question in a way that sounds merely curious and not sarcastic will be tricky. Hathaway certainly doesn't want his inspector to think he's taking the mickey, when he only wants to understand some of the little eccentricities that make up DI Robbie Lewis.

James supposes he could just come out and say it, and one of these days, he probably will.

"Sir, why do you wear your watch backwards?"


	4. Luck

Luck

Of the four of them, only James has a convincing poker face, and only Laura has significant experience playing the game. Robbie takes some comfort in the fact that he's at least better than Jean, who has a very obvious "tell" of playing with her earring whenever she gets a good hand.

Lewis has yet to properly lose to the chief super, though he's let her win a few times to spare her feelings. He also doesn't terribly mind when Hobson wins, but that's only because he likes seeing her smile when she does. But Lewis can't stand losing to James, who always gloats horribly.

Laura finishes dealing and Robbie looks down at a very, very good. He pushes all of his remaining chips to the centre of the table. " All in," he says, grinning smugly at Hathaway the entire time.


	5. Blind Date

_This chapter exists in the slightly-AU future where Lewis/Hobson is an actual thing._

Blind Date

It starts out simply enough. The three of them agree to meet at _The Trout_ to discuss the problem that's been weighing very heavily on all their minds. None of them is entirely sure what has caused Hathaway's recent melancholic state, but all agree that something needs to be done about it.

Unfortunately, they all have different ideas as to exactly what to do. Lewis suggests that they simply treat James with a little more civility than usual—make a quiet show of solidarity for their friend during his difficult time. Jean thinks that Hathaway's sombre state can be cured by hosting a grand party in his name to let him know they care—a well-intentioned idea but still one Lewis knows his highly private sergeant will find terrifying. But it's Laura who manages to concoct the worst scheme of all.

Now that she and Robbie have finally finished dancing around each other and are officially (albeit casually )dating, Laura's happier than she's been in years. And because she's found such happiness in love, she assumes everyone else would find the same happiness. The best cure to "cure" Hathaway—in her mind—would be to find him a nice girlfriend, whether he wants one or not. And much to Lewis's surprise, Jean agrees wholeheartedly and immediately starts naming potential candidates.

Robbie's more than a little sceptical of this plan. He wants Hathaway to find a nice girl just as much as Laura does, but that's just it. He wants James to find _himself _a nice girl, not have one forced upon him by Laura and Jean—especially considering their track records.

Innocent is married to man who Lewis has never seen and isn't even completely sure exists at all. And if that wasn't bad enough, her last attempt to play Cupid resulted in setting Lewis up with an incestuous, mentally unstable murderess.

Hobson freely admits to having once been attracted to the alcoholic lout Alec Pickman and briefly dated the mindless pretty- boy Alan Peterson. And even happy as Robbie is that she's dating him now, Lewis can't help but feel that Laura could do so much better.

Lewis quietly tries to dissuade his friends from any more matchmaking, but the ladies are pointedly ignoring him. He knows he's fighting a losing battle, though. Jean can be extremely stubborn when she wants to be, and Laura is quite probably even worse.

As Robbie sits there, helplessly sipping his beer, he listens to them come up with a "fail-proof" plan to set Hathaway up with the pretty redhead, who's interning at the morgue while she finishes up her graduate studies. Even though, Laura and Jean swear him to secrecy about this, Robbie mentally resolves to call Hathaway after he gets home anyway. The poor lad deserves some heads-up as to what Laura and Jean are getting him into.


	6. Microwave

Microwave

Now that Lewis thinks about it, he really should've learned how to cook properly, should've helped Val in the kitchen more often and picked up some valuable tips. But the thought had never struck his mind at the time.

Exhausted from his highly stressful workday, Robbie would return to his house, knowing there was delicious and home-cooked meal ready for him as well as a beautiful and compassionate wife who'd prepared it.

He thought that Val would always be there waiting by the door to welcome him home, that he'd always be able to take refuge in her embrace when the world made him feel sad or angry or scared.

He should've known better than to assume. What was it they always said _"when you assume, you make an 'ass' of 'u' and 'me'_"?

Well, he certainly was an ass, all right—so much of one in fact that he was reduced to using a microwave with a mind of it's own because he was worried he'd burn the bloody house down if he used the oven.

He squints at the instructions on the box_. Place frozen lasagne slice on microwave-safe plate and cook on HIGH for approximately 1: 25._

Or was it 7:25? Blimey, his eyesight was getting bad!

And 1:25/7:25 what exactly? Seconds, minutes, hours, days? It didn't say, and Robbie has no idea of which one was correct. Ah, where was Val when you needed her?

He hears a knock at the door, and when he answers it, he sees Hathaway at the door, a six-pack of beers and a bag of Chinese take-away in the lad's hands.

"Mind if I come in? I wasn't sure if you'd eaten yet, but I brought some food anyway. I thought we might be able to sort some of this case out much easier and much more quickly if we talked about it over beef lo mein and rice."

There are times when Detective Inspector Robert Lewis seriously wonders if his sergeant can read minds.


	7. Love

Love

_February 14__th__. _The day itself is always hard to get through. Hathaway watches his colleagues receive tokens of affection from their sweethearts, parents, and children. Mr Innocent sends his wife twenty-five long- stemmed roses and a card that leaves Jean blushing like a schoolgirl. Robbie and Laura make plans to try out a new Italian place. Both insist they're still "only friends," but if that's really the case, why didn't they think to invite James?

But all Hathaway's loneliness fades the instant he goes home and picks up his Gibson L5. She still fits in his arms far better than anyone else does. Her "body" is still the smoothest he's ever known, and her "voice" the most beautiful. They make sweet music together all through the long night.


	8. Chivalry

Chivalry

Not for the first time, he wonders why Jean keeps dragging him to these things—"indisposed" Mr. Innocent or not. The chief super's always comfortable enough in these sort of formal occasions— certainly much more comfortable than Lewis himself is. Jean's got much more social grace in her little finger than Robbie has in his entire body. Besides, half the time Innocent abandons him anyway once she's found some of her posh friends to interact with.

Robbie's solution to this sort of rejection is always to head for the refreshments, which is what he's done now—the moment he hears some important-looking Oxfordian calling Jean's name. After he's eaten far too many chocolate truffles than are really in his best interest, the glass of champagne he'd consumed earlier suddenly and rapidly starts coursing through him. He quickly glances back at Innocent, who's still surrounded by a large group of friends including the posh bloke who'd been so keen to get her attention earlier. Sure that Jean will be able to manage without him for a few minutes, Robbie goes off in search of the toilet. It takes him a little longer than he'd liked to find one, since the server he'd asked for assistance had messed up the directions. But after wandering around a dark hallway for awhile, he finally discovers what he needs and is able to carry out his urgent business.

He's washing his hands when he hears two voices coming from outside. One of them is female, and even muffled as it is, there's something familiar about it. "Were you following me?"

"Course I was. I thought we could use a little…privacy."

"No, we couldn't. I've told you a thousand times! Leave me alone."

"What your husband doesn't know won't hurt him. And it'll be fun, I promise."

Lewis turns off the faucet, grabs a paper towel to wipe his hands, and continues to listen. He doesn't like where this is headed.

"This has nothing to do with him! This is about you...you and your confused sense of entitlement! You're a grown man, now; you should realize that you can't get everything you want anymore."

"Oh, don't be such a tease, Jean. You're not fooling me; you want this just as badly as I do. You just want to get me riled up a bit more. You always did like it a little rougher."

Innocent's only response is a furious "you" followed immediately afterward by the sort of expletive one would never expect to hear from such a refined woman.

By this point, Lewis is sprinting out the door. A few feet away from the lavatory, a man has Lewis's guvnor backed up against a wall. As Robbie gets closer, he realizes that it's the same bloke he saw with Innocent earlier—the posh one who looked as though he thought his shit didn't stink—and that the man's hands and lips are everywhere they shouldn't be. To her credit, Jean is doing her best to fight off her would-be seducer but considering the man is easily twice her size, she's not being very successful.

Robbie's immediate instinct is to go introduce the man harassing his boss to a very angry and ready Geordie fist, but he suddenly remembers how much Innocent hates it when he makes a scene in front of important people. So, he resolves to try to handle this as rationally as his protective nature will allow— or at least until he can think of no other way to solve the problem.

"Excuse me, sir. But I think the lady's made it very clear she's not interested. Why don't you go back to the party now? You should go try the chocolate truffles; they're extraordinary."

The man pretends he can't hear Lewis and continues to focus his attention and his mouth on low neckline of Jean's evening gown. Robbie clears his throat, raises his voice and tries again. " Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said, 'excuse me, sir; she's not interested.'"

When this also fails to get a response, Lewis grabs the man by the shoulder and tries to forcibly drag him away from Innocent, which finally succeeds in getting the man's attention. The resulting fight is over within a few minutes, with Robbie coming away the victor. Though the inspector's jacket sleeve is torn and his nose bleeding heavily, his eyes remain un-bruised and "manly pride" very much intact—neither of which can be said of his opponent.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and—testosterone still racing through him—prepares himself to launch another punch if he needs to. But when he turns, he sees that it's Jean and that she's trying to usher him back into the loo. " We need to get you cleaned up."

The top of the toilet is down, so he sits on it. Jean hands him a tissue, which he pinches it to his nose as he watches the chief super wet several paper towels in the sink. By the time Innocent returns to his side, he's already soaked the first tissue, and Jean gives him another.

As she starts gently mopping up the blood on Lewis's face and neck with the paper towels, Innocent explains the whole story. The man Robbie had seen her with was an old boyfriend from her uni days—one so possessive, intimidating, and controlling that it had taken her almost a full year to work up the courage to leave him. Arrogant and obnoxious to a fault, he hadn't taken the rejection seriously, and on the rare occasion that his and Jean's paths crossed again, he'd persist on trying to pick up where they'd left off twenty –some years previously.

"Anyway..." Innocent concludes as she tosses Lewis's fifth used- tissue into the rubbish bin and examines her companion's now blood-free face, " I wanted to thank you…for defending my virtue like that. It was very noble of you, and I greatly appreciated it."

He tries to shrug it off. " What are friends for? Any other mad ex-boyfriends I should know about?"

She shakes her head. "Only my husband, but he's a much more pleasant variety of mad—one that I'm fully capable of dealing with on my own."

"So, shall we go back to the party now?"

" I don't know about you, but I think I've had more than enough excitement for the evening. Would you mind if I treated you to a pint at _The Trout _instead…to show my gratitude for your coming to my rescue?"

" That sounds like a wonderful idea."

The chief superintendent helps him to his feet, and off they go to a happier place.

And the next time Innocent asks him to escort her to a function, Lewis doesn't hesitate to say "yes." One never knows when one's knightly services will be required again.


	9. Ladder

Ladder

She reluctantly rolls herself out of bed when she hears the phone ring. Laura knows it would've been only a matter of time before she'd have had to get herself up anyway; after all, twelve-thirty _is_ awfully late to be sleeping in—even on a Sunday after a long stressful week. But in spite of this logic, Hobson still can't supress a groan as she slides her feet into fuzzy slippers, ties on a dressing gown, and runs into the other room to pick up her mobile—still blaring the Austin Powers theme—off the kitchen table.

"Hullo," she yawns into the phone, not even bothering to check her caller i.d. She's planning on making this conversation as brief as possible, so that she can sink into a nice, relaxing, hour-long bubble bath immediately afterwards.

"Er… hi, Laura. It's…it's Robbie. There's…there's been a bit of a problem… I would've called James, but he's at a dress rehearsal for his band concert, I think."

" I see." She waits for him to state the reason for his call, and when he doesn't immediately, she tries to subtly prompt him. "So…"

"So… what?"

"So, why are calling me again?"

"It's…it's kind of embarrassing." He sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing. "Well, you… you see… I've fallen off a ladder."

She nearly drops the phone in her shock. "You've _what?_"

"Please don't laugh."

Did he_ really _think she'd find that thought funny instead of positively terrifying? What sort of person did he think she was?

"What's happened? Are you all right? How long ago was it? Do you feel faint?" She struggles to keep the panic out of her voice, not wanting to cause him any more concern than he must already feel.

"Well… I was… I was trying to fix a paint chip in my ceiling—wasn't I? And I dunno what happened exactly. I just me balance isn't very good, cause next thing I know, I'm lying flat on me back on a hardwood floor, and everything hurts like hell."

"Oh, Robbie!" Hobson is now halfway between exasperation and worry, and her own heavy breathing seems to echo in her ears. She must sound like Darth Vader right now on the other end.

"I think I should be okay, though." How on earth is Robbie able to keep his voice so mellow during all this? He's the one who should be panicking—not Laura. He's the one who's fallen off the bloody ladder after all!

" But I'd still like to see the doctor—just to be sure," Lewis continues. "And well… I was calling cause I'm not really sure I'd be able to drive meself."

"Of course. Say no more. I'll be there in just a few minutes."

She hangs up the phone, grabs her purse, and quickly exchanges her slippers for trainers before hurrying out to her car.

She's halfway to the inspector's house before she realizes that she's still wearing her pyjamas, that she hasn't combed her hair, brushed her teeth, or put on make-up. God, she can't imagine how horrible she must look right now, what Lewis will think of her when he sees her. Ah, well, it's her own fault for sleeping half the day away, and it's too late to turn back now. Her Robbie needs her.


	10. Toothache

_This chapter is set immediately after "The Indelible Stain."_

Toothache

Robbie Lewis has never felt more trapped than he does currently, positioned between his two best friends in the waiting room of a dentist's office.

It was originally going to just be Hathaway accompanying him. However, Hobson seemed to get it into her head that Lewis could potentially persuade Hathaway to skip the visit, and she wanted to make sure that Lewis went through with it this time.

He's still not sure how she managed to finagle the extra time off, but he has a feeling she probably mentioned something to Innocent about needing to look after Lewis.

And while Innocent and Hobson are each formidable enough in their own right, the idea of them conspiring together for his physical health and against his psychological well-being is positively terrifying. Add that to the fact that Hathaway—despite Laura's fears otherwise—is just as insistent about Lewis getting his toothache looked after, and Lewis knows he's fighting a losing battle. If the dentist doesn't kill him with his evil metal tools, his friends will with their well-intentioned meddling.

He hears a drill running in the back and instantly tenses. As though she senses his anxiety, Laura puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You'll be fine, Robbie. I'm sure of it."

As though on cue, a little girl, tears streaking down her face, comes running out of the back room. Lewis raises an eyebrow at Hathaway.

"She's right, you know. It'll work out just fine. Besides, if it's between a little pain and embarrassment in the dentist chair and a whole lot of pain and embarrassment in the interview room, well… I should think the choice is fairly obvious."

"Ah, speak for yerself, sergeant." Lewis rolls his eyes.

"Oh, I am," Hathaway replies, a cheeky grin taking over his face. "It hasn't exactly been a picnic hanging around you these past few days—you know. You're difficult enough when you're in good health."

Lewis rolls his eyes again. "You know there is this saying. Something about a pot, a kettle, and the colour black, I think."

Hobson lets out a slight laugh and to Lewis's slight dismay, finally takes her hand off his shoulder. Lewis clears his throat. " While I'm thinking about it, I wanted to thank you both for being here. If you weren't…well…I'd be much worse off."

"If we weren't here, you wouldn't even be here at all," Laura points out, and Robbie shrugs in agreement.

"Well, if I _was_ by some miracle, I'd be damned scared—well more scared than I already am. You guys calm me down."

'Well, you're always doing the same for us," Hathaway chimes in. 'It's only right to return the favour."

"Robert Lewis," the receptionist interrupts. "You can go back now."

"Right," Lewis rises to his feet. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck; you've got us."

Lewis smiles to himself. Yes, he does—doesn't he? And he can't think of two lucky charms he'd rather have.


	11. Tea

Tea

It's one of the few things in life James Hathaway can always count on to make him feel better when he's having a rough day. There's something almost magical about the drink and the way it's able to calm him almost immediately, even when nicotine, music, and/or alcohol have already failed.

The thought of it gets him out of bed every morning, and his daily cup (or two or four, depending on how he feels when he awakes) never fails to put a smile on his face.

He's never had a bad cup in his life, though he's tried his fair share of brands and varieties. This doesn't surprise him; there's a large part of James Hathaway that doesn't believe "bad tea" exists at all.

He drinks chamomile when he's feeling under the weather, and peppermint when he's feeling fit as a fiddle and ready to take on the world.

He drinks green tea when he's trying to be healthy, and apple cinnamon when he needs to indulge himself a little.

He drinks lemon zinger when he needs a little kick, and Earl Grey when he needs to wind down and relax.

Of course, no cup of tea is quite so refreshing as the cup of ordinary black tea his best friend makes for him after they've just gotten over a fight. Each droplet of milk is like an apology for allowing something so inconsequential to get between them, each spoonful of sugar an affirmation that Robbie is just as committed to this partnership as James is.

The sweet, hot beverage warms James's body; his inspector's friendly, welcoming smile when he delivers the tea warms James's heart.


	12. Tribute

Tribute

One evening every year at 8:00 p.m., Hathaway drives his inspector to the cemetery. There's really no reason for him to be there; he has no idea what to do or what to say. But Robbie doesn't like going alone, so here James is now, lurking several headstones back as Lewis conducts his annual ritual.

Hathaway takes another long drag on his cigarette and watches Lewis place a bottle of beer on Endeavour Morse's grave. Then, the inspector reaches into the cooler from which he's just taken the beer and pulls out a carton of orange juice and a plastic disposable cup. He pours himself a glass, raises it as if in toast, and then brings it to his lips.

When Lewis starts talking, Hathaway takes a few more steps away. He doesn't want the other man to think he's eavesdropping on such a private conversation.

Or maybe there's another reason this day always makes him uncomfortable. He can't help but wonder if one day he'll be the sergeant who's lost his beloved inspector.

Will Hathaway find some creative way to commemorate the anniversary of his own mentor's death? Or will he find the memory too painful to even acknowledge?

If he is able to cope with it, he'd like to do something—to take an opportunity every year to remember and celebrate the man who taught him everything he needed to know about being a better police officer and a better man. He can't just nick Lewis's idea; Robbie would deserve something original. Besides which, Hathaway knows that Lewis associates beer and orange juice with Morse first and foremost—even though Lewis has taken his new partner to their fair share of pubs as well.

James mulls his relationship with Robbie over in his head; unless he's missing his guess, they don't have a "thing" that they do together which defines their relationship the way Lewis and Morse did. Their "thing" is probably catching criminals or maybe laughing together or being there when they need each other.

But maybe this is one of those things that will come clearly to him when he needs it. He only hopes that day never comes; James can't even begin to imagine what he'd do without Robbie.


	13. Stress

_This story is set pre-canon, shortly after Innocent has first started as chief superintendent and prior to Lewis's return from the Virgin Islands._

Stress

It's happened at least once a month for as long as Jean Innocent can remember—the sharp searing pain that makes her head feel as though it's about to explode, often accompanied by profound dizziness as well. Due to all the stress her promotion has brought, it seems to happen more like twice a week these days.

But despite the recent prevalence, she hadn't counted on it happening today, and her work has diverted her so completely that she hadn't recognized the signs until it was too late—hadn't taken any painkillers to head it off or resolved to take it easy.

She's currently wrapping up a discussion with one of her new detective sergeants. He's previously struck her as rather quiet and solemn, but now he's downright charming.

This may have something to do with the fact that the few other times Innocent's spoken to the lad, he's been with his partner. DI Charles Knox has a very intense, commanding presence, and it's impossible for even the chief superintendent herself to talk to the inspector without feeling somewhat intimidated and unwanted.

Jean's more than a little relieved that James feels so at ease with her one-on-one; she's met with her fair share of reactions (majority of them negative) to her promotion, and it's refreshing to interact with someone who seems to genuinely respect her—maybe even_ like _her.

Plus, she gets the impression that this highly interesting and highly complicated lad needs someone to talk to who'll really listen to him, though she's not still sure how much free time her schedule will allow to act as confidant. Pity though, she likes talking to him, and gets the impression that he likes (or at the very, least _tolerates_) talking to her.

Reluctant though she is to end this conversation, Innocent knows that she really does need to get back to work. Today's been a very busy and very stressful day, one so busy and so stressful in fact that she's had to skip lunch in order to get all her paperwork done in time—a decision that she's now thoroughly regretting.

For the past hour or so, she's also been acutely aware of a sharp, prickling feeling in her skull, but she's somehow managed to ignore it, aware as she is that there are far more important things to consider than her blistering headache.

Meeting now concluded, the chief superintendent gets up to show her visitor to the door, a seemingly harmless action that proves to be her undoing. The already-throbbing pain in her head suddenly magnifies to the point where she feels as though someone is pressing against her scalp with a white- hot poker. Her steps grow less confident, her vision more blurred.

She feels strong but surprisingly gentle arms catching her before she falls and carefully guiding her to the floor.

"Ma'am. What is it? What's wrong?" She can't make out Hathaway's face at all, but she can hear the profound concern in his voice.

" 'S on'y a mig'aine." _Is that really her speaking? Why does her voice sound so distant, so slurred?_

She's about to open her mouth to inform Hathaway of the medicine she keeps in her purse for situations like this, but finds herself unable to form the words.

For a while, she lingers with her eyes-closed, halfway between sleep and consciousness—aware of only a few things: a hand lightly stroking her hair, a soft voice murmuring something she can't quite comprehend, her lips being gently parted so that water can be brought to them. Eventually she loses even this minimal perception and gradually drifts off to sleep.

She awakens roughly three hours later, her migraine reduced to only a dull ache in her head. The room is totally dark; someone has turned off the lights and her computer monitor and drawn the shades. Someone's also had the bright idea of taking off the monstrous—albeit impressive-looking—heels that have been blistering her feet all day.

Her head is resting on a cushion that's evidentially been removed from one of the red armchairs in the corner of her office, and there's also a blanket that goes to just above her knees wrapped tightly around her.

When she sits up and takes it off her, she suddenly realizes that it's not a blanket at all; it's a man's suit jacket, one that smells slightly-but-not unpleasantly of smoke. It's clearly Hathaway's own garment, considering the immense size of it (James is easily the tallest man at the station) and the implausibility that he'd have asked to borrow someone else's jacket to keep her warm while she slept.

Innocent carefully gets to her feet, moves over to turn the light, and returns to her desk, where she finds a new piece of paper resting atop of the expense report file she'd been perusing earlier.

She picks up the note and reads the message scribbled upon it.

_I took the liberty of giving you half an aspirin after consulting first with your sergeant, as you seemed to be in a lot of pain. I hope this is okay. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find a clean blanket or pillow for you, so I had to improvise._

_ I wanted to stick around but my inspector's insisted on dragging me out to a crime scene with him. I will, however, stop by when I return to the station to endure that you're okay. I did have a word with your sergeant and she's promised to check in periodically and to make sure no one else disturbs your rest._

_ Hang in there, ma'am. If there's anything else I can ever do to help, let me know._

_—JH—_

And in that moment, Jean Innocent knows without a doubt that if she can count on any one of her new colleagues, she can count on James Hathaway.


	14. Postcard

_This story is set during Lewis's Italy trip with Lyn in between series 5 and 6_

Postcard

He wonders why it's been so damn hard to pick one out for her. He didn't have this trouble with James or Jean—now did he? He'd sent one to his sergeant from Florence with da Vinci's _The Last Supper_ on it, since he knew Hathaway deeply admired both fresco and artist. Innocent has specifically asked for a postcard from the Basilica San Marco in Venice, though she didn't explain why. But from the most un-Jean-like dreamy look in her eyes, he's able to judge that it probably has something to do with "Mr Innocent."

But Laura… well… Laura's been a challenge. When he asked her what sort of postcard she'd like, she'd only told him to have a good time with Lyn and warned him not to fall into the canal while in Venice.

This comment in mind, he'd thought of sending her one of a gondola, but he hadn't. He's not quite sure, but it seemed oddly…romantic for some reason. And he wasn't quite sure how she would respond to that. God, he's not even sure how he feels about that thought…about _her_ in general, even.

And _until_ he figures that out for himself, he's not gonna be sending her any postcards of Italian sunsets. But at the same time, he doesn't want to send her one of the typical tourist sites like " The Coliseum" or "The Leaning Tower of Pisa." Laura may be an attractive, charming, highly perplexing woman, but she's also an old and dear friend—first and foremost. She's a very special person in his life, and as such she deserves a very special postcard.

It worries him that he still hasn't found the right one. After all, he and Lyn have already hit Rome, Venice, Florence, and Verona. And they've only got two days left here in Milan before they have to return home to England.

Realizing he's gonna have to settle soon, Robbie glances once more at the display in front of him, and suddenly he sees it. There's a postcard in the corner featuring a night view of _La Scala_, the oldest and most famous opera house in Italy—and quite probably the world. He and Lyn had taken a tour of it this morning, and Lewis had remembered Morse telling him he'd once seem Pavarotti perform here.

He picks the postcard up and turns it over in his hand. More than any of his other colleagues, Laura had understood how much Morse had loved opera, and how much Lewis had grown to love it because of his inspector. He thinks also of _The Fairy Queen,_ the opera he and Laura had made plans to see together one bank holiday weekend—though a murderer had soon put a stop to those plans. One of these days, he's going to take Laura to a proper opera to make up for their cancelled plans—something by Wagner, maybe, in honour of Morse.

In the meantime, Lewis thinks he's finally found the right postcard.


	15. Indubitably

_This chapter is set not longer after "Expiation" and includes mild spoilers from the episode._

Indubitably

"It's late, James. Why haven't you gone home?"

Hathaway glanced up from his desk to see the chief superintendent leaning in the frame of the door. "I might ask you the same question."

"I had some things to finish."

"As did I." He studied her cautiously, trying to gauge her mood. A general awkwardness between them had persisted even in the most casual interactions following the Hugh Mallory incident.

Jean cleared her throat in an attempt to break the tense silence. "I want to congratulate you on your speech. Very well-done, sergeant."

"My speech? I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am," he replied, staring down at his desk so that she wouldn't see the smirk threatening to overtake his face.

The chief superintendent moved over to him. "Don't be coy, James. You and I both know that you wrote the speech Inspector Lewis delivered this afternoon."

"That's ridiculous, ma'am. Why would I do a thing like that?"

"I dunno, James. Why _would_ you do a thing like that?" She folded her arms and glanced significantly over to Robbie's empty desk. Then, she returned her gaze to Hathaway and raised a knowing eyebrow.

Hathaway cleared his throat nervously. "I…well…that is… he didn't _make_ me do it, ma'am. I offered as a favor to him. A little thank you for everything he's done for me."

Innocent smirked as she received confirmation of what she already knew." I suspected as much. Though if he _had_ pressured you in any way, he'd have to face the full brunt of my wrath."

"Wish I could've seen that," Hathaway muttered under his breath.

"What was that, sergeant?"

"I…er…it's nothing, ma'am," he replied before changing the subject. "So anyway, what gave me away? Was it the quotation at the end?"

"No, it was the word 'indubitably' at the beginning."

Hathaway let out a slight laugh. "I suppose I did make ' Inspector Lewis' sound like a bit of a toff—didn't I?"

"You might have been a bit more…subtle in your word choice and overall approach if you were hoping to channel Robbie," Innocent agreed. "Fortunately, the press didn't seem to notice, and Lewis handled himself very well at the subsequent question-and-answer session. All in all, a success."

"So you're…you're not mad then?"

The chief superintendent leaned against the desk and sighed. "Well, I'm a little peeved that my instructions aren't being taken seriously by the pair of you. But it's hard to be really angry when this department has just gotten the best bit of press we've had in months."

Hathaway looked at her curiously, _hopefully_. "So we're…we're okay?"

"Don't push your luck, James." Innocent turned to go, but Hathaway's next words made her pause.

"I...I knew you'd figure it out. Or at least, I was pretty sure you would even if I'd left out the 'indubitably'. I suppose that accounts for my 'showing-off.' I wanted the speech to be as good as it could possibly be in the hope that it might please you."

" Don't you mean in the hope that it would get you back in my good books?" Innocent narrowed her eyebrows incredulously.

"No!" he protested; then, realizing she was still skeptical, he revised his answer. "Well, _yes_ a bit...but that was only a very small part of it. I wanted you to know that I was sorry—maybe not about what I did but at least about all the trouble it created for you. And that…even though we don't always see eye-to-eye, I've…I've got a lot of respect for you. For all the great things you've done so far with a very difficult job and all the great things I know you'll do in the future."

"Okay, now I _know_ you're trying to butter me up," she teased, though she was extremely flattered in spite of herself.

"Maybe a little? But believe me, ma'am; I really do mean what I say. You're a good cop and a good person, and I'd be a fool not to grant you that at least."

"Well, thank you. It really means a lot to hear that." She paused for a moment, smiling as she processed his words. Then she added. "I still haven't forgiven you, though."

" I doubt I'd respect you as much as I do if a little compliment like that could turn your head," Hathaway conceded. "Still, I'd like for us to put this matter behind us as soon as we can."

"So would I."

"We could talk this over a pint at _The Trout_—my treat."

"Are you trying to bribe me, sergeant?" she scolded, though she sounded more amused than offended.

"Of course not; we both know how badly that would end up. No, just a casual drink among friends."

"_Friends_?" Innocent repeated curiously, and Hathaway, realizing his mistake, hurried to explain.

"I…I…realize you probably find that every kind of unprofessional, but in all honesty, I like you a lot, ma'am. And though I know you're my boss, on some level, I do genuinely consider you a friend. And I'd like to think you consider me one."

She tilted her head slightly in thought. "I hadn't really considered it—certainly not in those words at least. You're right; it is all a bit unprofessional. But I…I suppose…on some level, I do. Though our professional relationship would still come first naturally."

"_Indubitably" _he replied, and she smiled. "Does this mean you're taking me up on my offer?"

" Well, I suppose it depends. Will you promise not to compromise my professional integrity?" she said in mock-seriousness, her eyes playfully teasing him just as much as her voice.

"I doubt I could even I'd wanted to, ma'am."

THE END


End file.
